Page 56 of Omega in Love
Levi chuckles from his lounger. "Dante? Sentimental? Never."
"You're all assholes," I grumble, but there's no heat behind it. They know me too well now, can read me like no one else ever could.
Hero smirks. "He's thinking about how he never expected to fall in love with the job."
"I'm thinking about how I'm surrounded by mind readers," I counter, but Brookes just grins, pressing a quick, teasing kiss to my jawline.
"You love it," he whispers.
Fuck if he isn't right.
I remember the first time I saw him, terrified but defiant, trying so hard to hide his fear behind sass and bravado. I was supposed to be professional. Detached. It was just another assignment: protect the asset, neutralize threats, maintain perimeter security. Brookes Daniels was never just an asset.
"Come on," Hero says, breaking into my thoughts as he pulls himself out of the pool in one fluid motion, water cascading down his tattooed back. "Let's move this inside before our model catches a chill."
Brookes rolls his eyes. "I'm not that delicate."
"Tell that to the time you got a cold and declared it was the end times," Levi teases, standing and grabbing towels for all of us.
"I had the flu! A legitimate flu!"
"You had a slight temperature for twelve hours," I remind him, helping him out of the pool despite his protests. "And you made us create a last will and testament on a napkin."
Brookes huffs indignantly but accepts the towel Levi hands him. "I was being practical."
"You left your entire Louboutin collection to Charlotte and specified that Hero should get custody of your facial serums," Levi reminds him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.
"They're expensive serums! Hero's the only one who understands proper skincare."
Hero, already toweling off, just shrugs. "He's not wrong."
There's something about watching them like this, Brookes nestled against Levi's side, Hero close by, all of us moving around his orbit, that makes my body warm and fuzzy in the bestway. I follow them inside, listening to their banter, wondering how I ever thought I was complete before this.
Later, after showers and dinner, we settle in the living room. The space has transformed since Brookes really settled into this place, touches of his personality everywhere, from the ridiculous crystal bowl filled with lemons on the coffee table to the framed fashion prints on the walls. What was once a sterile and functional holding place to hide from his trauma is now undeniably a home.
Brookes is sprawled across the couch, his head in Hero's lap while his feet rest on mine. Levi sits on the floor beside us, his back against the couch, one hand idly stroking Brookes’ arm as we debate what movie to watch.
"I'm just saying," Brookes argues, "if we're going to Italy, we should at least watch something Italian."
"Call Me By Your Nameis not going to prepare you for Milan Fashion Week," I counter.
"It has beautiful scenery! And fashion! Sort of," he huffs in the bratty way I’ve grown to love with my whole heart.
Levi chuckles. "I think Dante's more concerned about the fact that you'll cry again."
"I will not!" Brookes protests, then pauses. "Okay, I might. But that's because I'm sensitive and cultured."
Hero's fingers thread through Brookes’ hair with practiced tenderness, a small smile playing at his lips. "How aboutRoman Holidayinstead? Classic film, Italian setting, less likely to make our Omega emotional the night before we have to pack."
The term 'our Omega' ripples through me like a breath of fresh air. Ours. I catch Hero's eye over Brookes’ head, that silent communication we've perfected, and I know he feels it too. This fierce, tender possession that isn't about control but connection, a distinction I've learned is everything. It still feels surreal sometimes. Three lone Alphas, used to isolation and duty, nowa pack, with an Omega worth burning down the world for if necessary.
"Fine," Brookes concedes with an exaggerated sigh, wrinkling his nose in that way that makes me want to kiss the expression right off his face. "But I reserve the right to watch sad gay cinema on the plane."
"Noted," I say, squeezing his ankle gently, letting my thumb trace the delicate bone there.
As the movie starts, the familiar black and white scenes of Rome flickering across the screen, I find myself watching them more than the film. Hero, attentive and quiet, his fingers never stopping their gentle massage of Brookes’ scalp, occasionally whispering something about the cinematography that reveals the depths behind his silence. Levi, solid and warm against the couch, occasionally tilting his head back to share quiet observations about Audrey Hepburn's expressions that make Brookes laugh, that genuine, unfiltered sound I never tire of hearing. Brookes himself, relaxed and unguarded between us, his defenses lowered in a way that still feels like a sacred privilege to witness after everything he's survived.
This is what we fought for through each nightmare, each hesitant step toward trust, each negotiation of boundaries. What we'll always fight for, every day of our lives together. Not just his safety, which was once all I thought mattered, but his happiness, his peace, the light in his eyes when he feels truly seen.
